Chapter 8: Freedom

Time's ticking onward... I just got wind that my execution is still set for the thirty first of October 2041. That means that in less than four days, they'll be pumping numerous amounts of drugs into my veins until my heart stops and I'm dead.

Even as I sit here, writing my thoughts down into this grimy notebook, I can't help but feel content. I'm satisfied where I am now, emotionally, mentally and spiritually; I've made my peace. The date was December 25th, 1991. It was Christmas time; magic was in the air, and so was the horrendous stench of filth and decay.

(December 25th, 1991). (At Bruce's old house).

There we were, the big guy himself and I stood in that old driveway gazing up at the looming household of death. The two storied structure that literally housed so much murder, (no pun intended.)

I briefly went over the state of this building at the end of the last chapter, but I'll fill in some last bit of detail. There had been a garage connected directly to the house on the left, with a thick rusty metal door frame. (Yes a door frame, the door itself looked as if it had fallen off over the years of neglect.)

The sun had been shining down, making it look as if it were so perfect; so... serene with eye popping splendor. Had anyone known that real estate sign sitting up front was a death warrant, then Bruce and I wouldn't have been here. Alas, here we were. I couldn't help but notice the somber look he had about his stature that day.

(Being around him for a short while made you keen on how he felt, since you can't read his facial expressions.) "Bruce." I said to him. The man just looked down at me. At this point in time, his cut out eyes didn't bother me anymore. I remember seeing that single bloody tear run down his face after what I said to him next. (I never knew how he was crying since his eyes were gone, but I just let it slide. It's not worth fretting over.)

"The only way we can stop people from returning to this godforsaken place is by destroying it. And the best way to cleanse an evil that is to the extent of this impurity is through the use of flames. It's ironic how hell's own weapon can be used against it."

I already had my gas at hand and the matches lay ready to ignite the trail, when I was ready for them. So Bruce and I took off on our own separate paths, dumping it over as much of the exterior as we could. We then rampaged the interior, starting with a bit of the first floor. We then entered the room that was to the left after ascending the stairs.

Something was odd about that room. A bed lay there all exposed and eerily unkempt. You know, now that I think of it, I remember feeling something cold brush against my back. Whispers from an unseen person made the hairs on my neck stand straight up.

Bruce had already worked his way down the hall, throwing the gas every this way and that. He didn't have a care in the world at that point, and I was happy for him to be honest. (Though he did stop at the bathroom entrance, gazing off at something. He later told me that this room was where he killed that twenty four year old girl. The one that appeared at the apartment the other night? Yeah, that was her.) He finished his side shortly thereafter and stopped just at the door of the room I was in, as I kept gazing at the bed.

"I feel so depressed standing in this house. I only caught a glimpse of the bathroom and shuddered uncontrollably," I said to him, who just tilted his head at me. What he did next, I didn't expect at all from him. He dropped his gas and wrapped those massive arms of his around me. Had his mouth been there, I know he would've been sobbing uncontrollably.

The weird grunting noises that he did create felt full of grief and yet, relief. "I know big guy. I know!" I said to him. A few minutes passed and we're still rocking back and forth. Finally he lets me go, and we continue dumping the liquid around.

We finally exited; the sun had been nearing its peak and our heads were spinning from the fumes. We knew the gas had been building so I tossed the lit matches into the garage and we booked it for the street. It took only seconds before the house blew up completely. Shard upon shard of wood shrapnel flew all across the front lawn, the street, the neighbor's yard; you name it! Now, all I felt at the moment was heat. Oddly enough, with the day being as chilly as it was, I had been sweating profusely.

What followed next will forever be embedded into my brain. A very loud and deep voice broke me out of whatever fuckin' high stupor that I was in. "I feel free. Even now, as I stand here, whatever binds that tethered me are releasing themselves. I mean... Look! I can speak again! And... I-I can see... Oh my god! I can see again!"

When I looked up at him, I saw two giant dark brown eyes staring back at me. His mouth/nose scare was gone, hell! He actually had a nose now! All of the grime and blood that once stained his hands and clothes were a thing in the past, leaving a everything clean. He grinned down at me; tears streamed his face.

Right then and right there, I saw him beginning to become translucent. "Where're you going big guy?" "I can finally cross over... The voices in my head no longer command me. Every day I prayed for forgiveness, knowing that what I was doing was wrong. Every day I asked for the voices to stop so I could finally finish the horrendous tasks I was committing. And you... You Shane have freed me!"

He was barely even visible anymore when he gave me one huge bright smile and then disappeared completely. Ever since that day, I still get goosebumps and I haven't seen him since.

(October 16th, 2041). (The library).

You know, even with the bars over those big windows, this place can't contain my spirit. I know that the day I helped release Bruce from his shackles, was the day I truly felt alive. It was a feeling unlike any other, even more powerful than the lust I got from seeing Rachel.

I felt a sense of happiness for the first time since before high school. That would make it over twenty years of despair and emptiness. To be perfectly honest, I started this memoir out of anger, but now...now I do it out a sense of purpose. Bruce showed that I could redeem myself if I just pushed myself a bit. I feel so bad for sitting there and watching Lance Burbs bleed out. I hadn't killed anyone since then, until Rachel and I tortured that cop.

Every day I feel this guilt from sun up to sun down. I've been in prison for over forty years, waiting for these fuckers to finally put an end to my misery.When I brought up Bruce's and Maggie's pasts, that was all because they came forward, as I mentioned earlier about Maggie.

I know I haven't discussed Rachel's and Simon's pasts, so let me fill you all in a bit. Simon, like he said, was born with the numbers being, 06/06/76. You all know what he's done by now, so let me just tell you this. The poor son of a bitch was tortured throughout his childhood straight up to adulthood. His parents would cut him numerous amounts of times and use his blood for black voodoo rituals.

As you probably thought, his parents were incredibly racist. Also, his mother was actually his aunt. Thus he developed all his anger and hatred for minorities and life in general and Trifecta was born. I remember him telling me that his first victim was a Latina girl he met at a bar, who loved to belly dance. He had sex with her and then scalped her before torturing her to death, with his trifecta method. She was forever branded with that swastika and maimed beyond recognition.

...(That was on his eighteenth birthday. I know! He's very fucked up.) And as for Rachel, I finally got something out of her. Her father was a dentist and her mother died when she was twenty. Over the years she developed a fetish for teeth and torture porn, which formed into a horrible ritual.

Her first kill was actually her mother, who used to repeatedly bring drugs home and inject them into her. Rachel told me that her mother had also forced herself upon her and had sex with her straight through all of her adolescent and teen years. Since her father was always busy working, she had no one to turn to.

Instead, she would watch movies where people had their teeth yanked out by the roots and said it made her feel tingly inside. She even told me that watching gory movies, with limbs being cut off, sent her into a frenzy. Having had enough of her mother's bullshit, Rachel took the woman, strapped her down and pumped her full of heroine until she was about to overdose. She then began to rip her mother's teeth out one by one, listening to her screams as they fueled her lust.

She told me, and I quote, "What I did with her teeth was sharpen them and attach them to that sickle blade you see me use. All of those teeth surrounding it? Those are my mother's! It serves as a constant reminder as to why I am the way that I am."

Rachel told me some time following this statement, that she moved to New York City in hopes she'd escape her horrible past. Little did she know, her father tracked her down to his family's old apartment where she strapped him down and killed him too. She then proceeded to use that tooth sickle and cut her father's throat with her mother's teeth.

There you have it! Rachel's and Simon's murderous origins. (Of course I could go into farther detail, but I yearn to get into the thick of the plot.) Y'all already know my past. Adam and Maggie explained theirs... Bruce didn't have to explain more than hearing the voices. We all know that his schizophrenia was beyond repair. So now all I have are the last two to join our ranks and then...

Well then, I guess it's time to reveal where they'll be meeting up. All I can do is pray for my forgiveness each and every day, help out as much as I can and get those douche bags off of the streets. Coming up next, is a man who adds more of a... finesse to his killings. His name is: Edward "The Poisoner" Yillswire. (Yes, he's from another country.)

... I know that I sign off like a fuckin' newscaster, but I've always had an interest in Journalism. <--- (Yeah... Imagine what my life would've been if I actually didn't kill that prick?) This is Shane Sorinthia, signing off!